Through Wind and Fire
by herwriteness
Summary: When it seems that your destiny is before you, then does strife choose to make its mark. No pleasurable journey may it be, one that pulls you through circumstances unimaginable, bringing wounds without compare, and experiences worth forgetting. But always is there a reason for the suffering, always will there be an answer, even if it comes not when we wish it to.
1. Prologue

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth. 

I Corinthians 13:4-6

The shrill cry of a distressed elfling pierced the tense air.

"Ada!"

Silence followed the call.

Again he called for his father, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"Ada!"

Only more silence greeted him as he grew more impatient, wishing for his father.

"Ada, there's something crawling on me! It burns!"

This time his father came running to him, finding him in the gardens with a wilted flower lying on his lap.

"A, Legolas, I told you that you must stay inside, I did not allow you to come to the gardens. Now see here," the king said, lifting Legolas' arm, "you have a sore given to you by one of those wretched crawling animals. Come along, I shall clean it for you!"

"Goheno nin, Ada," the prince replied, looking at his feet in shame. "I just wanted to look at the flower. It had a very pretty shade of blue, and I wanted to see it." He turned his head up and looked into Thranduil's grim face. "You are not angry, are you, Ada? You look upset."

"No, penneth, I am not angry at you." Thranduil sighed. "Come along, let us go." He lifted his son into his arms easily, his mind weighed down by the day's events.

The king took a step, then turned. It took but one glance at the flower that Legolas had longed to look at for a tear to run down his face. It was a lovely flower, now lying limply on the stone floor, such a brilliant shade of blue, just as her eyes were. The king swallowed, holding back his tears as the pain in his heart magnified.

Thranduil Oropherion, King of the Woodland Realm, had a great love for both his son and wife. It grieved him terribly that she had just left without a cause, abandoning him and their son. It tore his heart apart, and as his son called to him, crying about a minuscule bite, it became immeasurably difficult to inform his son that his naneth had left him. And she left to reason for any soul to believe that she would return

Oh, the poor, poor elfling. He would not understand what it was to have a mother, for she had just left him. The love of a father he would know in abundance, but the sweet, pure and gentle love of a mother would never be known to him. The chance to know that was torn from him before he could even have a glimpse of her love. How was he to care for his little son? Legolas was a darling little munchkin, but only his wife truly knew how to care for him. He was sure he loved her, and even more sure that she loved him. There was no doubt in his heart. It was true, that elves love but once. Yet what had called to her so urgently that caused her to leave her home, her son, and her husband?

He could not find it in himself to despise her. He loved her. And it pained him more than being stabbed by a thousand swords to think that she really did not care for him as much as he thought she had. Thranduil imagined that their bond was now breaking, slowly tearing. In this image he had conjured, he thought that maybe he could sever it forever. Yet that was not in his power to do such a terrible thing, and even if it was not so, he would not remove himself entirely from her in such a manner. Tears poured down his face, and he remembered what his father had told him. That his heart would cause him pain. That love was not worth it, all this he told him just before he charged into battle, to his death. Oropher had told him this as Thranduil urged him to see reason, to not defy the orders of Gil-galad. In spite of those words, Thranduil knew what love is, what it truly is, and nothing could cause him to believe anything that contradicted what he knew.

This he knew: Love is always worth the pain. And because of love, he would tell Legolas that his mother had left. A lie would only worsen this terrible situation. He would not lie, for he loved his little leaf. The love he had for his son was true, the kind that speaks truth and despises lies.

One thousand four hundred fifty years had passed since his wife, Bregoliel, had left him and Legolas. Legolas became his everything. He raised his son with great love and care. Legolas grew to be a handsome ellon, with all the virtues a good prince should have. He was proud and bold, though ellith scared him, particularly the ones who shamelessly threw themselves at him. Legolas joined the guard, and was one of the greatest warriors in Mirkwood, earning high regard among his father's advisors.

Prince Legolas was tall and strong, far more skilled than many of his peers. But still his heart was humble and meek, and never did anyone find him praising himself. He was a warrior, gladly defending his kingdom, always willing to do what he must. In many ways he emulated his father, and in other ways, his mother.

His broad shoulders were always easily recognised, and his grey eyes blazed with life and determination. Often a boyish smile made its way into his lips and seemed to erase the years that could be seen in his eyes. There was no denying that he was handsome, either, for his countenance was both enough for one to conclude that he was decidedly good looking and also that he was a prince. Legolas was a warrior, yes, but he held a heart as warm as his father's. This was evident to all.

There was a time when the prince's head was filled with dreams and fanciful thoughts. But those times passed sooner than they came, for his reality struck him down, and he realised that hope for these once entirely probable dreams faded, for they became fantastical dreams.

And still he longed for his mother.

There was a large price to pay when Queen Bregoliel left, and it was not a minute one. It was high. The people were not the ones who paid this terrible price, though they loved her. It was the king who gave up the most.

Thranduil became cold. The once charming and well loved king ceased his exploits in the villages. The king who once personally handed food to the wounded elves and gave money to those who had none, stopped all activities of the sort. His people love him still, but it appeared he did not care for them as he once did. All elves of noble standing knew this, however. Legolas was the one who kept the king sane. Had Mirkwood's beloved prince not been with his father as he was, Thranduil would have locked himself in his chambers for the rest of eternity. He would have become a tyrant.

But he never did. For whenever he looked at his son, his heart burst with joy. He knew that it was imperative for him to be the great leader he was known as. Not only for the people, but for his son. Truth be told, he only was cold because he feared trusting others. Sadness enveloped his heart. Pain haunted his every step; it ruined his dreams.

He had known Bregoliel ever since he was an elfling, and they had been the dearest of friends. Now he feared that if he trusted anyone more, he would be faced with betrayal once more. Most thought he was cold because his heart was cold. The opposite was true. The Elvenking's heart was one of the warmest ones ever seen. But his heart still ached horribly from the loss of his beloved, and his wife's leaving led to other things that pulled him down even further. To lose Legolas would be the ultimate low.

The king really was proud of his dear son. Legolas had assisted in many ways to ensure the capturing of the creature Gollum, who was known to possess the One Ring of Sauron for over five hundred years. Gollum really was a pitiful thing. The "cold-hearted" king pitied him badly. He would have had him executed, but pity stayed his hand.

Legolas had never ventured far from Mirkwood's borders. Thranduil would not let him. He feared that he would be killed or taken, and all would be lost. He often pondered on what he would do if he lost his son. In fact, he was thinking of it in June of the year 3018, the third age of Middle-earth. Thranduil thought of it all, sadly he recalled Legolas' childhood, and with anger he remembered the events that followed his wife's leaving. His thoughts were interrupted by Galion, one of his most trusted generals and dearest friends.

"Your majesty?"

"Yes, Galion?" he replied.

"Well..." his voice trailed off. "My lord, you see…" Galion sighed.

"Galion, what has happened? I am the king, I am the protecter of these people! What happened?!" Thranduil snapped.

"There was an orc attack, my lord."

"Did you kill them all? Is Legolas unharmed and well?"

"Yes, my lord, but, you see, there is a problem." He paused, looking for the words to use. "Rhaich!" He cursed, rather frustrated.

"Galion, I am bound to be told one way or another, `tis only right YOU tell me now! " Thranduil exclaimed, becoming impatient.

"Well, you see, during the attack, Gollum escaped," Galion replied, shifting on his feet. The general waited for a response.

"Goheno nin, I should not have grown so impatient you, mellon. Call Legolas in. You can go now."

Galion exited the king's study and quickly reached Legolas, telling him to report to his father.

"Ada, is everything well? I know Gollum escaped and that is foul news and trouble, but never do you call me into your study at this time of day," Legolas said, as he entered.

"You are quite right, ion nin, but I need someone to carry news of Gollum's escape to my old friend Elrond."

"Tauriel would most likely be glad to go. And, if you would allow me, I would very much like to go."

The Elvenking pondered this, brow furrowed in thought. Then he transpired to change the subject, for he had wondered often about these things.

"Legolas, you and Tauriel seem quite happy now. I have decided that she will go, but I know not if I will allow you to accompany her. Tomorrow morning I shall tell you."

Legolas was disappointed with this answer. He wanted adventure away from Mirkwood, and to be with Tauriel wouldn't be half bad at all to him. In fact, it was an idea gladly welcome to him. They had been courting since the Battle of Five Armies. Granted, it was a rather hasty decision, one that still baffled Thranduil, but all had seemed well. There were those who still held doubts.

Thranduil confused the prince by asking him the question he least expected.

"Do you love her, Legolas?"

"I-I-think so, ada. I have never felt- more alive with anyone in my life. So yes-I love Tauriel," he replied, a little hesitantly, stumbling over his words and pressing his lips together nervously.

"You are dismissed, Legolas."

Legolas puzzled himself. Why had his father asked him that and dismissed him so quickly? He was truthful to the father he loved so dearly, was he not? Then why was he so loath to say that he loved Tauriel? Of course he did! He could not think of another soulhe would want to be with. But yet he hesitated. He hesitated to say those two words to her. She had said them to him earlier that day.

"Legolas. I must tell you something."

"What is it, Tauriel?"

"Gi melin," she replied, smiling up at him.

He did not respond. He merely smiled a half smile at her and walked away, shaking his head in disbelief. But it was not a disbelief that elated him, rather one that created a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach, though he could not identify why.

As Legolas pondered whether or not Tauriel was truly the one for him, Thranduil sat in his study with tears in his eyes. He knew he could not shelter Legolas in his kingdom forever. This is the time when he would have to let him go. And to top it, his son was in love with the captain of the guard. Thranduil never saw that coming, and it enraged him that he could not see how his son began to love her, or understand any of their relationship. From the beginning he doubted it. Still there was doubt in his heart. True love bears no doubt, thought the king.

Thranduil did not know how he would cope with all this change. What would happen when Legolas married Tauriel? Would Legolas even come back alive? He could feel a shadow and a threat growing in his mind at the prospect of his son traveling to Imladris. The king was sure that something unexpected would occur, something that might change Legolas' life forever. Thranduil did not wish for such a change. Truly, he wanted the little innocent elfling once again, but gone were those days.

Feelings were nothing in that moment. Thranduil had always strived to be honest with himself and his son. He knew it was best to let him go to Imladris, and he would no longer convince himself otherwise.

One thousand years later, Legolas Thranduilion sits on a knoll of green grass in Valinor. To his right is his son, and on his knee, a young elleth with green-grey eyes. On his left is his wife, a smile of pure joy evident on her fair face as she leans into the embrace of her husband. Across from him is his father, next to him, his mother.

Together they recount this story, one that changed all of their lives, and even shaped their characters, the very essence of who they are today.

Thranduil and Legolas begin to tell the tale, but by the end, all are contributing to the story, for all their parts collided. This tale enraptures the children, for it is one that can never grow old. It will stay with them forever, and they will tell their children, and their children shall tell their children. Though to the small elflings it is but a sort of fairy tale, though they do know it is far more real. It is a story that inspires dreams, and inspires a child to never lose his faith, nor his love.

It is a tale of great love, a father's love, a child's love, a husband's love, for love is the force that drives our universe; it is a story full of sacrifices, for no truly wonderful story is void of sacrifice; but most importantly, this tale is one of faith, for with faith, mountains can be moved, whether they be figurative or literal.

Yet without love faith lacks its meaning.

Ada(r)- daddy, father

Ion nin- my son

Nana (Naneth)- mommy, mother

Goheno nin- forgive me

Penneth- little one

Ellon (Ellyn)- male elf(s)

Elleth (Ellith)- female elf(s)

Rhaich- curses

Mellon- friend

Gi melin- I love you

hello, there! when I first posted it, it completely screwed it up which is entirely depressing. so, here it is, in readable format. I hope.

please leave a review, it would mean a lot. I'm really trying to improve my writing over here soooo yeah xD

\- Ness


	2. II

_"Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all of one's lifetime."_  
\- Mark Twain

"Legolas, please stop putting that in your mouth, you will choke!

"Why, Nana? It makes me feel like a king. You know, like the stuff that Ada always has that I do not get."

"You get none for a good reason, ion nin. Sugars do not do young elflings such as you any good." The prince attempted to shove more in his mouth. "Ai, Legolas, will you cease this?! `Tis a common thing for elves to have a connection to the earth, but none has ever consumed dirt merely because it had the appearance of food."

"Maybe I am different. I will be the first elf to eat dirt. If I pour water on it, like this," and he poured out some water, creating mud, "I can make a cake. Nana, if I leave it in the sun will it bake like a cake?"

"Ai, you are strange, ion nin."

She smiled at her little son's behaviour kissed his cheek, then tapped his nose playfully.

"Please do not tap my nose, Nana, for then you are strange."

At that moment, the queen laughed, her voice ringing out like music itself. But just as quickly as she had laughed, her face fell when she saw her husband approach.

THRANDUIL'S POV

My mind drifts to the day I saw her last. She was laughing and playing with Legolas, a sight that caused my heart to burst with joy. `Twas the day she left us. I can yet see her eyes dancing, full of love for the elfling before her, a gaze that only a mother could have.

Oh, I had believed she loved him, and that she loved me also. Why else would she have married me? Each day her words of love met my ears and I reveled in them, for my love for her was great and deep. Her actions spoke of her love for me.

No longer can I speak or say her name, for it brings my soul far too much pain and sorrow. The sound of her name tears at my innermost being, at my failure of holding a family together. Many would believe I should despise her now, even with everything within me. But I cannot.

I cannot bring myself to hate the elleth that brought me the most joy and pain anyone ever has or ever could. With her departure entered grief, and it overtook me, changing who I was, and forcing me to live in my failure.

A group of rebels schemed against me once, using her as bait to lure me in.

Alas, for it was all lies, a plan to draw me out and take the throne from the house of Oropher. One may accuse me of being a most horrible king, for when those bandits were done away with, my heart was saddened, for while they lived, they brought me hope that she may return home, return to me.

I know not of what I would do if she should come back to me, nor do I wish to think of it, for it appears clear that she will never come back.

At least I bear some sort of hope that Legolas will return to me at the end of his journey, and for that do I thank Eru Himself.

Legolas should not be away longer than two months, which is not very long in the slightest bit. Yet knowing my son, he shall take as long as he well pleases to return, savouring every moment of freedom given him. When I told him that he shall have no falling in love with ellith of whom he knew nothing of, I spoke purely in jest. Seeing that he has told me he loves Tauriel, it does not fit that he would love another. Yet I feel as if something is not as it should be with them. A part of me believes that she is not the one for him, but I have not the heart to tell him or Tauriel, no heart to break shatter their own hearts as I did once. And that revelation brings my once humorous words to a more serious light, having become possible.

Choosing to dwell not on such thoughts, I walk to the stables, knowing Legolas and Tauriel will be there. I know I told him I would not see him off, I have decided I will go. A part of me truly believes that the elf I see leave today shall be far different than the one who returns to me.

If he even does return.

What is occurring to my mind?

All my thoughts have taken such strange turns today. First, I sit in my study, brooding over the last time I saw my wife, then doubt I the love my son and Tauriel have, and now I act as if Legolas should ride to his death on this very day.

I believe I am going insane, but it seems impossible to believe that my thoughts are mere insanity. Be it the parental instinct that knows that Legolas will change, or just insanity, it appears that all my suspicions will be confirmed, that there is more to Legolas' journey than meets the eye. And though I wish that my little leaf could be an elfling once more, or that he will not change, I know it is for the best.

Today I shall say farewell and good riddance to this Legolas, for the one who returns will not be the one I see off today. However much that pains me bears a rather irrelevant weight, for I love my son, and to love is to do what is best for him, and I know that this journey will do him good.

When I reach the stables, I realise that I have nearly missed his departure, for already has he begun riding.

"Legolas!" I call after him, and he stops his horse, riding to where I now stand.

"Yes, Ada? Why are you here? You said you would not see me off, or am I mistaken?" he says, riding towards me and dismounting his horse, just as I recall teaching him to do.

"No, no. You are not mistaken. In fact, I did not plan to see you off, but I decided to," I respond, feeling the tears grow in my eyes. "Legolas, let us move away from here. I wish not for my people to see me weak."

"Ada, they do not see you as weak. They would be overjoyed to see their king show emotion for once," he says, almost pleadingly.

"No. Ever since your mother died," I respond, watching Legolas flinch at the mention of his mother, "I will not show such emotion to my people. I came here because I could not allow you, my son, to depart without a blessing from me. I love you, ion nin. Love causes pain, Legolas. When I see these people, I think of her, and how she seemed to love them so. Love brought me joy and great pain. But the pain shall prove its worth in the end, ion nin. I love you, and it is my wish that you should never forget that. There are many things in this world to fight for, and not all of them are worth a shred of anything. Remember always, my son, that love is always worth whatever war you must fight to keep it. The answer will come in due time, in the time of the one who guides time itself." I pause, unsure of what I should speak to him next of. "I do not know why I chose to tell you all this, but please, for my sake, remember it. I know it will do you good." He nods, looking at me with eyes that remind me of when he was but knee-high, begging for a horse ride. I smile, though tears find themselves falling from my eyes. "Novaer, Legolas. Farewell."

A hand he puts to his heart and extends it to me, and I do the same.

This will not do for a goodbye, and with tears falling down my face, I embrace my son and briskly walk away.

That was, by far, the most difficult thing I have done yet. Many wars have I fought, yet I would choose that horror over what I have just done.

It was terribly painful.

Unable to hold in my sorrow and tears, I push past the guards that were escorting me, morph my face into one that is cold and unfeeling, and march to my chambers.

"My lord?"

"Where are you going?"

"Is everything alright? I shall send for the healers!"

"No, I need nothing!" I exclaim. "No healers! Leave me in peace! Now!" I bellow, and they a scurry away like mice.

I am in no mood to be bothered, and these people do not assist my current state. They cannot see the tears that fall down my face. I refuse to let my people, the ones who depend on my very strength, see me weak, stumbling and blinded by my tears.

I shall not break, I will do what I have done for the last thousand years. Put on the mask and stride to my study with an air of confidence, walls of ice.

Yet in all my efforts to convince myself, I cannot control that one disobedient tear. Three. Four. Five.

And now do I cry. I cease my incessant efforts to hold back the tears, letting them freely fall with the knowledge that not a soul can see me now.

"Thranduil. What do you believe you are doing, dear boy?"

Too soon did I assume, for one has found me in my pain. This brings to memory once again those fateful days where those I loved left. Today is such a day as that, my son has left, though it is different this time. I have let him go.

"Thranduil" they say, "what ails you? Tell me, you are as a son, and I shall care for you as such. It does not do a soul good to keep thoughts wound up inside."

"You are not my mother, Mirima."

"No, I may not be your naneth by birth, but you have become as a son to me. When your mother left to the Undying Lands, I took you as my son, at your mother's bidding," she says, "Do you forget how you used to run to me when there was storms, whenever your parents were off doing business in other lands?"

"No, Mirima, I have not forgotten, nor shall I. `Twas my mother's wish that you be as she once was. Ai, I have let my son leave today, an occasion that has been delayed far too long, though I wish to delay it longer. I have sheltered him for far too long a time."

"I know. I heard him this day as he spoke to the Captain of the Guard, an elleth with red hair. She and Legolas have become quite close have they not?" she says, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, yes, indeed they have. I have allowed them to court, and though I permitted it I yet have doubts. It baffles me greatly to know that they have courted for fifty years and still show not a sign of marrying. Though Legolas did tell me he loves her. And yet still I cannot cast away my doubt."

Mirima seems deep in thought for a short time, and then answers me.

"That is quite strange. Most elves marry early in life, and it seems these two found love later, yet they have not married after all these years. It could be possible that they both deceive themselves, and they are not destined for one another." She pauses briefly. "But I know nothing of children falling in love, for I have none. I do know that you would not approve of your son marrying a captain of the guard, or an elleth that you have never met, but yet I tell you this. If Eru Iluvatar has set it in place, do not fight it. And your son will know and he shall tell you of it."

Wiping away the traces of tears, I reply, "I care deeply for my son, and I feel that this journey will change him greatly. Watching as he rode away brought back the image of my wife, riding away without glancing behind her once. There is pain, Mirima, pain I cannot handle nor quench."

The tears make themselves known once more, falling down of their own mind, despite any effort to keep them within.

"Everything will show itself with a reason. You love your son, and knew this was best for him. It was not your doing that caused her to leave, and none know the true cause for it. An answer will be given, Thranduil, in due time, in His time."

She gives me a reassuring smile and leaves.

With no newfound confidence in life, only more pain and sorrow, I return to my chambers, glad to know that none heard my breaking. I cannot be the king I was before, I must hide the hurt from all.

My mind betrays me and drifts away to thoughts of my wife, and I find what hope remained drift away. Do I long for her return?

If the words I spoke to my son when he departed are true and valuable, he answer would prove itself to be 'yes'.

Yet now I doubt. Is this love worth this pain, this suffering and the void that is deep within my soul?

Hello, here is chapter one!

Please leave a review, it would mean a lot!

\- Ness


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